


Air Conditioning

by avoidingavoidance



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gratuitous Smut, Jean is a repairman, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/pseuds/avoidingavoidance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco discovers he has central air, and this apparently comes with more benefits than you'd expect.</p><p>(i have no excuse for this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Air Conditioning

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr](http://avoidingavoidance.tumblr.com) and also this is how i break writer's block

Marco doesn’t think he’s ever put pants on as fast as the day he is awoken from an afternoon nap by a monstrous _crash_ and a muffled, “Shit, ow.”

If he were to die, he’s not thrilled with the idea of it being naked and half-asleep.

Hastily buttoning his pants and taking care to not cause himself undue torment with his zipper, Marco cautiously pokes his head into the hallway, cowlicks going every which way, and assesses the situation.

At the end of the hall, that stupid creepy pull-down door leading to the even creepier attic he’s never been in is pulled down, and there’s an assortment of thumps and clanks coming from the ceiling above him. 

Biting his lip, Marco wishes desperately for coffee as he weighs his options.

Number one: it’s a murderer and he should leave immediately. The only problem is that the ladder is now blocking the door. Shit.

Number two: it’s a burglar, and if he remembers rightly how the ladder works, he can fold it up, shut the door, and hopefully trap the guy up there until the police come.

Number three: it’s a murdering burglar, and he may as well attempt to find out as much as he can before he’s gruesomely cut down so he can at least haunt the bastard.

A thunderous metallic _boom_ echoes from near the door, followed by an irate groan, and Marco grips the doorway to his bedroom tightly and manages a wobbly, “H-hello?”

All the noises from above cease for a second, and the air is still and silent. Marco swears if the guy dropped so much as a pin, he’d hear it. 

Luckily, it seems he drops an entire toolkit, as there is a twinkling, cacophonous rain of wrenches and filthy curses from above. Marco jolts, but he really can’t suppress his laughter at the colorful exclamation of “fucking piece of shit Jesus Murphy—”

Figuring that no good burglar would be such a noisy wreck, Marco takes his chances of the intruder being a murderer and moves to collect the fallen wrenches.

“Sorry, I must have slept through you coming in, uh—”

He’s met with his potential adversary as the guy hangs upside-down out of the ceiling, switching off the insanely bright light strapped onto his hat as he does so. He’s got a big smudge of dirt across his cheek and nose, and a sheepish grin. Marco flushes and internally groans as he realizes the dude is _hot_. God dammit.

He reaches out and collects the wrenches from Marco’s limp fingers before they fall again. “Yeah, sorry about the noise. And the, uh, language. I came to check out your air, your landlord said it wasn’t working?”

Marco blinks, crossing his arms over his very warm and very bare chest. “I mean, it’s in the window,” he starts, thinking of the rumbling beast hanging awkwardly out of his living room window.

“No, the central air.”

“I have central air?” Marco raises his eyebrows, legitimately shocked. 

“Yeah, uh. Hold on.” The guy pulls himself back up into the attic, shuffles around, then lowers himself onto the ladder, and oh god he’s hotter than Marco had thought. Baggy, paint-splattered jeans half-tucked into thick black boots, strong, dirt-smeared arms and long, rough hands… Marco crosses his arms tighter and wonders why he doesn’t keep an emergency shirt in the hallway. “How long have you been living here again?”

Marco shakes his head to try and clear it. “Uh, three, three and a half years?”

“And you never knew you had central air.”

“Nope.”

The guy pulls his hat off, shaking some dust out of his messy blonde hair. “What did you think the vents were?”

Marco sucks on his lip. Honestly, they kind of look like light sockets, but… “Um. Bad news if the zombie apocalypse is airborne?”

The blonde stares for a second, then laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. Well, I got it fixed, so you can take the elephant out of your window. Need some help with it?”

“U-um. Sure. Let me put a shirt on.”

“Nah,” he says quickly, grinning widely as he moves around Marco and into the living room. Did he just… check him out? No way, Marco thinks, shaking his head again. “I got this.”

Marco watches the dude unscrew the air conditioner, lean on it, and pull up the window, reaching around quickly to grab the bulk of the thing so he can haul it into the room. Marco moves to pull the window down, noticing then that it is indeed much cooler in his apartment than usual. He really hopes the landlord isn’t going to bump his rent.

“Uh, thanks,” Marco says, turning and looking for the absent repairman. He pokes his head into the hallway. The cord to the so-called elephant is retreating into the attic, and there’s a good _thump_ before the blonde comes back down. “What was your name again?”

“Jean,” he says, brushing his hands off on his pants before offering his hand. Marco tries really hard not to pass out at the firmness of his handshake. “And you’re… Mark, right?”

“Marco,” the brunette corrects, stuffing his hands in his pants. “Can I, uh. Get you something to drink?”

“Oh, sure, thanks.”

“Red or blue Gatorade?” Marco moves to his fridge, biting his tongue around the cheesy _Matrix_ joke he’s itching to make.

“Red pill, please, Morpheus,” Jean says from the living room. 

Marco’s dying. _‘Please leave, excessively hot repair man,’_ he thinks. _‘Either leave or stay for about six hours and don’t leave until I’m ready to let you, oh my god.’_

With a wide grin, Marco tosses a bottle to Jean, leaning against the doorway to his small kitchen while he opens his own drink. 

“Thanks,” Jean says, and Marco watches as the blonde very obviously eyes him up again. Oh thank god. “’S hot out today. I’m a little jealous, I’ve got a noisy elephant of my own at home.”

“Mm,” Marco hums around some Gatorade, swallowing pointedly. Jean’s eyebrow twitches minutely. “Well, I think this is more power than one man can handle alone. If you wanted, you could, ah. Help me enjoy it from time to time.” He cannot believe the cheesy porno shit he just spouted, but it’s worth a shot, honestly. 

Jean raises his eyebrows, cheeks flushing red, and bites his lip. Marco’s already sporting a half-chub at that expression, dear god. What kind of faces would he make when he’s taking Marco’s thick cock up his ass?

Shit, shit. Redirect. Marco tries to employ every ounce of self-control he has to not just pop a boner right there, but he’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s going commando, and that these pants are a little loose, and that Jean’s eyes have been devouring his happy trail for the last minute or so. Fuck.

“That sounds, uh,” the blonde starts, clearly not quite with it. “Cool.” It takes a second, but he rolls his eyes at his own accidental pun and digs the heel of one palm into his eye with a groan. Marco just laughs, taking another gulp of his drink, and Jean gives him another sheepish grin.

Jean has other appointments, but when Marco leans close to give him his number on the back of a receipt, the blonde grabs his waist and pulls them together, promising against his ear in a husky voice to come back after his shift. Marco reaches around and grabs his ass, grinning lecherously, and says he’s looking forward to it.

“Oh, uh,” Jean says, poking his head back into the apartment. “I’ll shower first. I swear I’m not always this grungy.”

Marco snorts. “Yes you are, you’re a repairman.”

“… Right. Uh. See you at seven.” He flushes at Marco’s little wave, backing awkwardly into the hallway, and when he shows up at 6:58 with shower-wet hair and definitely overdressed, Marco still hasn’t put a shirt on, nor does he intend to. It’s far too fun to watch Jean get flustered now that he’s out of uniform.

He follows Marco into the apartment, letting the door close quietly behind himself, and holds up a six-pack of beer. “I know you’ve got Gatorade, but, uh. I figured why not. It’s Friday and all.”

Marco lets their hands brush as he takes the beer from Jean, tossing him a lop-sided grin. “No work tomorrow, then?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nah, I’ve got a desk job.” Marco gestures at the couch and moves into the kitchen. “Took a day off because I’ve been at the office before six am every day this and last week.”

“Dedicated,” Jean whuffs as he collapses into the couch. It’s insanely comfortable. He looks around Marco’s living room, raising an eyebrow at the weird shade of lavender the walls are painted.

“Something like that,” Marco says, handing Jean an open beer and sitting next to him, turning to face him and offering his own bottle up. Jean clinks the necks together and they both drink, Jean sighing contently as he does so.

“You, uh. A fan of purple?” Jean gestures vaguely at the walls as he asks.

Marco laughs, leaning into the couch. “It’s just the light. I swear they’re blue in the daylight.”

“Mm.”

“Anyway,” Marco says, getting up again. “I imagined you’d be hungry, so dinner’s about ready.”

“Oh, shit,” Jean mumbles, running a hand through his hair and watching Marco’s ass sway into the kitchen. “You didn’t have to.”

“I think most of the fast food places’ll be closed by the time you leave,” the brunette says pointedly, grinning again at the way Jean turns bright red. He resists the urge to add, ‘If at all.’ “I don’t have a table, if you hadn’t noticed, so feel free to surf the TV for something if you want. Xbox has Netflix, too.”

Jean elects not to do so, instead sipping his beer and checking out Marco as he hums and stirs something on the stove, which the blonde is just realizing smells pretty great. He’s glad Marco can’t hear the way his stomach growls.

They make comfortable conversation as they eat, Jean trying not to gracelessly shovel the pasta concoction into his face. Yeah, hungry is a word for it.

Between them, they kill the six pack, not like it’s a struggle for two full-grown men. Jean’s still hesitating, though, even with the way Marco keeps throwing him glances, and when their conversation finally lapses, Jean runs a hand through his hair and finishes his beer.

“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbles, and Marco nods and hums, chewing idly on his thumbnail. “I should, uh. You know.”

“Oh, sure,” Marco says, taking Jean’s bottle and tossing it in the recycling. Maybe he’d read things wrong. He’d figured he knew what eye-fucking looked like, but who knows. He rubs the back of his leg with his foot, hands resting awkwardly in his pockets. “Well, you’ve got my number, so.”

“Yeah.” Jean stands, raking a hand through his hair again, and nods at Marco. “So, uh. Thanks. A-again.”

“Anytime,” Marco replies, and he really means it. Even if he is a little disappointed.

Jean nods again, then stiffly stalks into the hallway.

The sound of the door opening doesn’t come, though. There’s a soft _thud_ that more resembles a head hitting the thick wood. After another long moment, Marco moves into the hall, leaning against the doorway to the living room and watching Jean curse softly. 

After a moment, the blonde turns, jumping a little when he sees Marco. He leans back against the door and examines the carpet.

“I, uh.” Jean swallows nervously. “I didn’t come to leech off your central air.”

Marco crosses his arms over his bare chest, unable to hide a small smile. “No?” Jean shakes his head. “What did you come for?”

“You really gonna make me say it?”

“Just making sure I read things right earlier,” Marco says softly, biting his lip. Jean peers up at him. “Making sure we’re on the same page, you know?”

Jean nods, leaning off the door and coming to stand in front of Marco. When he reaches out and hooks his finger through the brunette’s belt loop, tugging him closer, Marco scoots forward and slides his hands into his own pockets. “I think we’re on the same page.”

“You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Marco murmurs, leaning down into Jean’s space.

“I’m not uncomfortable. It’s just… I kind of didn’t expect you to be so goddamn hot. Or into me.”

Marco laughs quietly, reaching out to trail his knuckles up Jean’s forearm. “You seemed so confident earlier.”

“Yeah, I’m a split-second confidence kind of guy.” Jean leans closer, nudging his nose against Marco’s. When he speaks again, it’s that same raspy voice from earlier, and Marco can’t help but shiver a little. “But I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day. Sorta accidentally convinced myself that you’re way out of my league.”

“You should be more confident,” Marco whispers, sliding his hand up Jean’s arm, over his shoulder, until he’s curling his fingers gently around the back of Jean’s neck. He brushes a tiny kiss over the pointed tip of Jean’s nose before he breathes, “You wanna let me fuck you?”

The words seem to inspire bravery in Jean. “Oh fuck yeah,” he manages before he yanks Marco against himself, pressing their lips together heatedly, and any awkwardness between them falls away. Jean rips his shirt over his head and lets Marco drag him toward the bedroom, their lips meeting again in a wet, needy frenzy. Marco’s hands run all over Jean’s muscular chest, fingers curling around his bony hips as he tugs him into the warm room. 

Jean lets Marco push him onto the bed, biting his lip around a gasped curse when the brunette fucking _crawls_ up the bed toward him, predatory and sexy as hell. As soon as he’s within reach, Jean grabs Marco and pulls him closer, kissing him desperately and pawing at his _fine_ ass through his jeans.

Marco pulls back and trails hot kisses up Jean’s neck, drinking in his rumbling groan and the way he tilts his head back for Marco’s lips. “Been thinkin’ about me, huh?”

“Fucking… no shit, man, do you own a mirror?”

With a grin, Marco presses himself over Jean, kissing him again as he grinds their hips together. He finds Jean is just as excited as he is and gives a breathless chuckle. They both shudder at the way their cocks rub together through their pants. Jean hooks his thighs around Marco’s hips, rutting up against him, and slides his hands over everything he can fucking reach as they kiss again, almost devouring each other.

The way Marco rubs against Jean, tempting him with every snap of his hips, kind of makes Jean crazy, and the blonde falls back into the sheets with a low moan.

Marco licks his lips and sucks at Jean’s neck again, nudging his chin back again so he can lave his tongue over the mark he’s leaving, and the blonde gives another shuddering hum. “You usually vocal?” Marco asks, giving a firm thrust as he does. 

“Hope you don’t mind, ‘cause I’ve been trying to keep it down and it ain’t working.”

Leaning up, Marco nips at Jean’s lips and kisses him again, running a hand slowly down his chest. “Don’t stop, I like it.” He leans back onto his heels and looks down at Jean, biting his lip. “God, you’re fucking hot. Wonder what you sound like screaming my name.”

The blonde whines at the lack of friction, reaching up to curl his fingers under the waistband of Marco’s loose pants. He pops the button and licks his lips, most certainly eye-fucking the brunette again. “Promises, huh?”

“I keep my promises,” Marco murmurs, running his palms achingly slow up Jean’s thighs. “You do remember my name, yeah?”

Jean can tell by the grin that Marco’s teasing him. He laughs, toying with the brunette’s zipper. “Only been thinking it all day. You know your landlord really thinks your name’s Mark?”

Marco rolls his eyes, unsurprised. He trails his fingers over the hand toying at his zipper. “Go ahead.”

Biting his lip again, Jean wiggles closer and carefully tugs the brunette’s zipper down, letting out a shaking breath when he finally lets Marco’s cock pop out. “Damn,” he mumbles, sitting up and pulling the brunette’s jeans away from his cock. He catches Marco off guard when he grabs him and manhandles him onto the bed, kneeling between his legs and tugging his pants down and off.

Marco watches, breathing harder as Jean settles himself onto his stomach and strokes the brunette slowly. He levels him with dark, blown-out fucking bedroom eyes, and Marco shivers again and arches toward him.

Jean wastes no time. He leans forward and kisses down Marco’s tight stomach, still stroking teasingly, burying his face in the neat trail of dark hair he’d admired so much earlier. He moves further down, kisses growing sloppier, until he’s mouthing wetly at the base of Marco’s cock. The brunette gives a low moan, tilting his head back, but the way Jean’s hot kisses continue up his hard length makes him shudder and arch. He leans up onto his elbows to watch the blonde mouth up his arousal, never breaking eye contact, until he’s laving his tongue wetly over the head and—“Holy shit,” Marco breathes, for more than one reason. “How did I not notice you have a fucking tongue ring?”

Grinning widely, Jean shrugs, and when he flicks his tongue against Marco’s cock, the brunette can see all too damn well how Jean positions himself so as he’s teasing the ball of his tongue ring over Marco’s slit, the tip of his tongue is doing fucking _insane_ things against the sensitive spot under the head. Marco falls back against the bed again, groaning loudly as he arches his hips up and slides a hand into Jean’s hair, pulling encouragingly. Jean follows the prompting. When he wraps his lips around Marco’s cock, the brunette arches again and shudders, cursing softly before leaning up again to watch Jean work him over.

Bobbing his head easily, Jean watches Marco come apart under him, freckles flushed dark and fingers twitching in his hair. When the blonde hollows his cheeks around him and slides down to bury his nose in dark curls, though, twisting that piercing against him as he goes, Marco curses and tugs at Jean’s hair again. “Fuck, Jean, that’s t-too hot. Ahh…”

Jean pulls back, just enough to take a deep breath, and when he dives down again and fucking _swallows_ , Marco’s back arches so pretty and he _whimpers_. 

“I’m s-serious, that’s so good, oh my god—” Marco grabs Jean when he pulls off before he can torment him further and drags him up to kiss him deeply, moaning into him and fumbling at his jeans as he does. “You’re too fucking good at that,” he rasps, shoving Jean’s pants and underwear down as he does, pulling them together and grinding his slick cock against Jean’s.

“You—nngh—complaining?”

“Hell no.” Marco drags his nails lightly down Jean’s back, grabbing good handfuls of the blonde’s ass and rutting them together again. “Makes me want you even more.” He leans up and fucks his tongue into Jean’s mouth again, muffling the blonde’s moans, now acutely aware of the piercing rubbing against his tongue. When he pulls away again, he leans over to the end table and digs in the drawer for lube and condoms, and as he does Jean wrestles his pants all the way off and straddles Marco’s hips. He wraps his long fingers around their cocks, moaning softly, and he bites his lip around a grin at the way Marco eyes him up.

After he dumps the things to the side, Marco runs his palms up Jean’s hips and over his waist, letting out a shaky exhale. “Fuck,” he mumbles, arching his cock up into Jean’s grip. “Want you just like that…”

The blonde licks his lips and slides his free hand up Marco’s chest. “Yeah?” He grinds against Marco again as he drags his nails back down, and Marco’s eyes flutter momentarily at that. “Want me to fuck myself on you?”

“Oh fuck, _please_.”

“Come on, then,” Jean breathes, grabbing the lube and handing it to Marco, who takes it gladly and sits up to kiss Jean deeply.

“You’re goddamn incredible,” Marco murmurs against his lips, wrapping one arm around Jean’s waist and squeezing him for a second. He pulls away then, though, and pops the cap on the lube, grinning at the way the blonde shudders against him. Marco slicks his fingers and bites his lip, nudging his nose against Jean. “Definitely gonna make you scream for me.”

Marco licks his lips at the way Jean arches when he slides his cool fingers against him, rubbing gently against his entrance to try and coerce him into relaxing. He wraps his other arm back around Jean’s hips, pressing them together closely and dropping little kisses against his lips.

“Sorry,” Jean mumbles, moving to wraps his arms around Marco’s shoulders. “’S been a while.”

Marco smiles and kisses him softly, sucking at his bottom lip, and Jean relaxes into the kiss, sliding his tongue against the brunette’s easily. He still tenses a little, though, when Marco presses the tip of his finger into him, sighing and spreading his thighs across the brunette’s lap, and Marco waits patiently for Jean to adjust. He runs his free hand slowly down Jean’s back, across his hips, gently working his finger into him until he’s knuckle-deep in the blonde’s tight heat.

Jean leans his head back on a sigh and rocks his hips back onto Marco’s finger, testing the feeling, biting his lip a little at the rumbling groan Marco gives in response. The brunette kisses along Jean’s shoulder, sucking at his collarbone, nipping gently up his neck, and when he thrusts his finger minutely and curls it toward Jean’s stomach, the blonde shudders and moans, his nails dragging across freckled shoulders.

“C’mon,” Jean urges, rocking more insistently, his aching cock rubbing against Marco’s stomach and smearing precome across his skin.

The brunette nods, thrusting deeper, and he moans softly at how fucking _tight_ Jean is. He works him open enough to slide a second finger in, shivering at the whimpering moan pressed against his jaw. “Damn, Jean,” he mumbles, holding Jean closer and fucking him a little harder, and as the blonde’s breaths come in quick pants and his hips move with Marco’s fingers, he bites a little harder at Jean’s sweet-smelling skin. “So hot…”

By the time Jean’s fingers clutch tight at Marco’s shoulders and his kisses grow desperate, Marco’s got three fingers buried deep inside Jean, thrusting and spreading and curling, trying to map out where to hit the blonde to reduce him to gasping screams as he’d promised. Jean’s impatient, though, winding his fingers into Marco’s hair and tugging enough that the brunette has no choice but to meet his gaze, dark eyes amused. “I’m about to jump your ass,” Jean growls, rolling his hips against Marco’s fingers insistently. “Come on, Marco, let me— _fuck_ —”

Marco grins widely at the way Jean’s back arches tight when he rubs his fingers hard against his sweet spot, but he pulls them out and lets the blonde shove him back into the sheets. He tears open a condom with his teeth, tossing the wrapper off the bed. Jean scoots back and watches Marco roll the thing on and spread more lube over it, and when the brunette pulls off and wiggles toward Jean, he finally moves over him and licks his lips. He pulls a concentrated face while he guides Marco’s cock against himself. The face he makes when he starts sinking down, though, is fucking _incredible_ , so much better than Marco could’ve imagined, and he rolls his hips up against Jean with a soft moan at the sight.

It takes a good amount of self-control for Marco to let Jean sink down onto him, achingly slow, the blonde’s eyes squeezed shut and his teeth savaging his lip, and when he’s finally seated Marco’s shaking with the urge to fuck his brains out. He waits, though, his fingers tight around the blonde’s pale thighs, raking his hungry gaze over him while he waits for Jean to adjust.

At some point, he realizes Jean’s fucking with him. Probably the point where Jean squeezes around Marco’s cock with a wide grin, his tongue poking out between his teeth.

“W-what,” Marco gasps, his palms running down strong, muscular thighs, fingers squeezing. “You gonna make me beg? Already said please.”

“Was just… enjoying the face you were making,” Jean says, rocking his hips just enough to have Marco licking his lips and arching. “Like you’re trying really hard to hold back. ‘S pretty hot.”

Marco laughs, running his hands back up until he’s grasping Jean’s hips tight. He uses his grip to move Jean against him, rolling his hips up into him with the tiny amount of give he’s allowed, trying to tempt the blonde into moving. It works. 

Jean gives a shuddering moan, leaning back to brace himself on Marco’s thighs, and when he arches up Marco gets a perfect view of how his cock looks buried in Jean’s tight ass. Marco groans and tightens his grip, thrusting back up into Jean, catching the blonde off-guard. His breath hitches and his head falls back, and that is about the limit of Marco’s patience. 

Holding Jean’s hips tighter, he pulls him onto his cock with every deep thrust, digging his heels into the bed to lend some force to his thrusts. Jean moans loudly, letting Marco have his say for the moment, but when he presses one hand against Marco’s stomach and pushes, Marco lets him take the reins again, and oh _fuck_ he’s glad he does because not only is Jean ridiculously strong, he looks _amazing_ slamming himself down onto Marco’s dick. He pulls up far and sinks down hard, bouncing on Marco’s lap, not bothering to keep his volume down as he squeezes tight around the brunette and rides the life out of him.

“Oh _fuck, Jean—”_

Marco arches and lets out a deep groan, his fingers curling into Jean’s tight waist and helping tug him down harder, his hips bucking up into Jean’s rough rhythm. His gaze rakes down from flushed cheeks and closed eyes, tightly tensing muscles, down to how Jean’s hard cock looks bouncing against his stomach, and his eyes fall helplessly back on his cock being swallowed over and over by Jean’s ass. It’s so fucking hot.

“M-Marco,” Jean whines, shifting his hands to the sheets between Marco’s thighs, and the angle gives Marco enough freedom to fuck harder into Jean’s sweet ass. It also lets him find out what Jean sounds like when he’s crying out for more, his voice loud in Marco’s humid room, and when Marco shifts a little and takes over again, Jean’s moans echo around him. Must be hitting a good spot. 

“Right there, M-Marco, fuck me right there oh my _god—”_

Jean’s arms are shaking, and Marco is at the absolute limit of his self-control. He pulls Jean up off his dick and sits up, pushing him back into the sheets, and Marco watches him try blearily to figure out what’s going on while he pulls Jean’s knees over his shoulders. Moving over him, Marco bends him back and _rams_ his thick cock back into his ass. Jean arches tight and cries out, tensing around Marco’s cock, but he’s barely given space to breathe before Marco’s fucking him _hard_ , hips bucking rough and deep and so _fucking good_ that Jean’s left screaming and grasping helplessly at the sheets.

Marco pins Jean to the bed and pounds his cock into him, moans dripping loud from his lips as his hands grasp at sweaty, pale skin, pulling him close while he fills him up over and over, drinking in Jean’s noisy pleas for more, cries of _so good fuckme_ , until the blonde’s back is arched near off the bed and his thighs are shaking and he’s barely holding on.

“Marco, Marco like that fuck me _just like that_ , fuck—I’m gonna come, gonna—”

Unable to give a more coherent response than a gasping whine, Marco rakes his nails down Jean’s sides, and he’s finally rewarded with the sweet sound of Jean screaming his name as he comes _hard_ , riding his hips back into Marco’s as much as he can, head thrown back. His hands grasp desperately, shakily at Marco’s shoulders, and Marco lets his thighs fall to the sides so he can wrap his arms around Jean and give his last deep, quick thrusts before he’s coming too, Jean’s name tumbling over his lips as he falls.

By the time Marco’s anything approaching coherent, Jean’s still shaking under him, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

“Fuck,” Jean murmurs, one trembling hand sliding up to bury his fingers in Marco’s hair.

The brunette pulls out with a small whine, Jean’s hips arching up against him, and he spares no thought to the sticky strings of Jean’s come stretching between them when he balances himself over the blonde on his elbows and kisses him breathlessly.

“Mmp,” Jean manages against Marco’s lips, and he pulls back, blearily afraid he might be crossing some lines, but Jean’s arms winding around his neck prevent him from moving too far. “No, ‘s just your pointy-ass hip bones.”

Marco laughs, tugging himself out of Jean’s embrace (which the blonde is clearly less than pleased about). He wobbles out of bed and into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and grab the paper towels, and when he comes back he lovingly cleans Jean’s come off of both of them. When he finally crawls back into Jean’s arms, the blonde wraps himself around Marco like a damn koala and messily attempts to kiss every “stupid hot beautiful dammit” freckle he can find.

When he drifts off, Marco has no idea, but when he wakes up Jean is passed out on his chest, still wrapped around him. Possibly drooling. Marco laughs and rolls to face him, kissing away the grumbles that emit from his lover. “Hey,” he mumbles, running his warm hands up Jean’s back.

“Hey what,” Jean replies, trying to hide his face in Marco’s neck.

“We should do this again sometime.”

A pause. Marco’s worried again for a second, until Jean wriggles in a way that lets him press his hard cock against the brunette’s stomach and tilts his head back with a mischievous grin. “Like right now?”

Marco raises his eyebrows, only surprised for a second before he growls playfully and rolls over onto Jean, kissing him deeply and already moving to put his hands to better use.

\--

The only thing that stops them from irritating Marco’s neighbors further is the apparent drought of previously abundant condoms in the brunette’s end table and the imminent arrival of Sunday, but Saturday was a day definitely well-spent.

This pattern continues for a few weeks until Jean finally shows up one Friday night with a bottle of wine instead of his usual six-pack, and a stuttered, mumbled offer to take Marco out to this nice BYO Korean place he went to this one time.

Marco grins and yanks Jean into his apartment, happily kissing him until the blonde’s begging for mercy and “alright alright dude c’mon our reservations are at eight please put a shirt on.”


End file.
